


just us is enough

by Kierkegarden



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Nostalgia, Psychology, Slice of Life, implied sex, roasting Anakin is what this author does best, this fic doesn't know what it wants to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14240895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: Things are not the same as they used to be for Hera and Kanan. Intimacy doesn't come easily under the weight of the Empire.





	just us is enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is something different. Whenever I write something disjointed like this, I tag it with freeform and hope no one notices. Maybe in this context, it works at least on a thematic level. Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> My Tumblr is Kierkegarden, for those who are curious.

Kanan faces into the shade of the tall Atollon corral. He can feel the sun beating down against his back, can feel every beetle crawl across the ground. He knows Hera is behind him before she speaks.

“Where are the kids?” he asks, and he can imagine her making that face she makes when he interrupts her. The narrowed eyes turning to softness and with a flick of her head, her lekku bounce back behind her neck again. The blindness only makes his connection to the Force stronger, has exponentially increased his abilities, but he’d give it all back just to see her face again, to share her smile.

Kanan feels the pressure of her hand on his shoulder blade as she sits beside him.

“They took the _Phantom_. Got a lead on some generators for our X-Wings. Should be cake.”

“Hm,” he wraps an arm around her. She’s tired, he can tell, and her back probably has a knot in the same place it always does, “And us?”

“You are off working on encryptions,” Kanan can sense the lightness in Hera’s tone as she leans into his touch, “Officially. Which means I have you right here for as long as I want you.”

“Oh.” Kanan is a little taken aback by the purr in his ears and the sweeping feeling of her lek against his neck. It hasn’t been like this since he was blinded. They just haven’t made time for it. “You’re in a _special_ mood, I take it.”

Hera’s eyelashes flutter against Kanan’s cheek and he feels it go straight to his cock, as if he’s fifteen and still a virgin. He wills his heart to slow, but it’s just been so long. It’s been too long. “You don’t have to censor yourself,” she whispers before pulling him into a soft kiss, “nobody’s here. I made sure of it.”

As if on cue, a distinct whirring sound can be heard clambering down the ramp off of the _Ghost_ , directly towards them. Hera disengages and Kanan can picture her ruffled expression, pursed lips and furrowed brows. He always secretly loved that face too.

“CHOPPER!” Hera yells, “I thought I told you to go with Ezra!”

“<Ezra sent me back here>” Chopper buzzes, “<He said that if Kanan was working on signal encryption, that I would be more use to him.>”

Kanan can tell exactly what the droid is saying, despite not understanding a lick of his coding language. It’s a reminder of the amount of time he’s been here, been by Hera's side. She had warned him back in the beginning that he’d have to share with that droid, that her heart would always be split between them. That was before it was split between the other four spectres, and Kanan had frowned at the idea of sharing. Now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Ugh,” Hera throws her hands in the air, “Of all the times for Ezra to be observant. Go, I don’t know, zap a spider or something, Chop. Kanan and I are doing just fine by ourselves.”

“<Use protection.>”

Kanan can hear the droid puttering off into the command center.

“Where did he learn that?” Hera rubs her temple.

“Zeb?” Kanan suggests, and he can feel Hera cringing. He instantly regrets it. “So, anyway. You were saying? About your mood?”

“Instantly worsened now that Chopper’s here and picturing Zeb...ugh, nevermind.” Hera stands and offers Kanan a hand, “Come on, let’s get something to drink inside the _Ghost._ I have a bottle of currant wine stashed somewhere.”

Kanan pouts, following in toe.

 

\--

 

The old glass bottle is three quarters of the way full, and Kanan can only tell this when he holds it to pour, feeling the weight of the liquid in his hand.

“Tell me when to stop,” he says, “it’s hard to see my limit.”

The joke falls flat and Hera doesn’t laugh.

“Stop,” she says, when both glasses have been filled sufficiently, “drink with me.”

“To us,” Kanan raises his glass to toast his partner.

“To us,” Hera agrees and lets the glasses just barely clink, “To the Rebellion.”

It only hurts a little because Kanan understands what’s on her mind, how the Empire casts its long shadow over everything. He had hoped for a moment that it could really just be them, but such things are impossible. Kanan knows this all too well. He feels himself sliding into that conflicted spot, where he whips himself again and again for the selfishness, for the anxiety. He keeps a stoic face.

“Remember when we used to watch that holo-drama about the Jedi and laugh because they were portrayed like a bunch of cold calculating villains up in a tower somewhere?”

Hera nods slowly at the sudden change of subject and takes a deep sip, “Yeah?”

“I’m…” Kanan almost stops himself from saying the candid statement, but doesn’t. Not in time. “I’m not so sure they were that far off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that's just Imperial propaganda,” Hera’s voice is frowning, “I met Jedi when they came and liberated Ryloth. The Jedi were a force of Light.”

“Ha,” says Kanan weakly. He wishes he had never said anything. “Force.”

“Stop it,” Hera grabs Kanan’s face between her small calloused hands, and kisses him hard, “You’re more than any Jedi anyway.” The wine goes flying off the table to crash at their feet, spilling burgundy liquid over shards of glass.

“Oh kark,” Hera says, “I need to clean that up.”

“No.” Kanan stands, lifting her with him, “Let’s go watch a holo.”

 

\--

 

“That one’s based on General Skywalker, right?” Hera’s lekku are down loose, the way Kanan likes them best. He feels her body’s weight draped lazily across his chest, and in the darkness, he can imagines a much younger couple entwined on a ship in motion. It's a comforting thought, remembering where they come from. What they've been through.

“The one with the blond hair?” Kanan gives her a little squeeze. He doesn’t need to see to know what’s going on. There is something comforting about that too. “Yeah, I think so.”

“He’s awfully whiny,” Hera laughs, “and he crashes a lot of ships.”

“That’s why I suspect he’s supposed to be Skywalker.”

“Mm,” her face burrows into his neck, running a thumbnail along the waistline of his pants, “Do you wanna try again?”

“To the sounds of fake Jedi Masters bickering?”

Hera’s eyes are twinkling. Kanan can picture this face too and Force, she is beautiful.

“It’s no candlelight and romantic ballads,” she moves his blindfold to kiss the corners of his eyes, “but we’re not young lovers anymore.”

“No,” Kanan agrees, “and I couldn’t see the candles anyway.”

“This is ridiculous! This is the third ship you’ve crashed this month!” snaps fake Master Kenobi and Kanan laughs a raw, deep belly laugh. He flips Hera over and pulls her flush against him and wishes that one night could shine so brightly that the Empire’s shadow would be pushed away for good.

“I love…” Hera starts and then pulls Kanan into another kiss.


End file.
